To School the Schue
Glee_Angst_Meme: I'd love to see a Kurt vs. Will altercation based on this:
"You want to know why I always join the girls during the boys vs. girls activities? It's not because I'm confused about my gender. None of the girls have ever thrown me into a dumpster, or shoved me into a locker. As for the using the girl's bathroom thing? See, when I'm in there, no one ever accuses me of trying to sneak a peek. And there, no one's ever sexually harassed me. You seem to marvel at the fact that I always gravitate towards the girls in our group. It's not because I forget that I have a penis. It's because they've never given me a reason to genuinely be afraid for my well being. The same can't be said for the boys. And maybe, Mr. Schuester, if you paid attention to more than your "leads", you would have realized that."
The day looked as good as double pleated pants on overweight men, which was Kurt's efficient way of stating that the day sucked and that he felt fat in a particular outfit.
Kurt's problem of the day was not with a bully but with someone he should have trusted not to have their blinders up when he was in trouble. Normally, Kurt could handle it when he was being messed with. Kurt could roll (very gracefully) with the punches, the shoving, the slushy-ing, and other verbs calculated to bruise one's sense of worth (and ribs). Ask Sue Sylvester; Kurt was very good with cruel and unusual routines. With a little more effort than what he'd like to admit to, he could handle it when a person walked on by his humiliation.
But then Becky happened! Becky, who was genetically predisposed to being slow on the uptake, had stepped in front of Kurt randomly and asked him if he was okay. Kurt wasn't nursing a bum arm or pelted with garbage or blinded by food coloring, and frigging Becky noticed his unhappiness.
He'd indulged Becky with the smiling muscles he'd developed as a Cheerio, and yet...
It left a taste in his mouth that reminded him of the one time Mr. Schuester witnessed him being bullied... and handed him a cup of water that would've left a preschooler thirsty. Tap water. At room temperature, no less.
Kurt excused himself to the bathroom and locked himself in Artie's stall for a few minutes, glaring at his shaking hands.
"I am more than okay," Kurt said out loud, flexing his fingers until he could hold them still. "I am..." Flawed. "...fabulous, thanks."
"Yo, I'm gonna end up taking a golden bath if youz don't hurry it up with yo' fab self."
Kurt made a startled noise that definitely wasn't a scream. He unlatched the door cautiously and hastily stepped out without looking at Artie's smirk. Then Kurt processed Artie's words before the embarrassment colored his cheeks.
"... that's disgusting, Artie. Are all straight guys this disgusting or is it you?"
"It's me and the Pied Piper of R&B," Artie responded, and because Kurt's idea of soul was inspired by empowering female ballads, he would never understand.
Kurt lingered in front of the mirror, pretending that his hair wasn't sculpted down to the roots, that his nails weren't buffed to the gleamiest layer, and that his lips were anything but kissably glossed. Almost as an afterthought, Kurt stuffed the remaining bunch of paper towels into the garbage can.
"This is some bull," Artie muttered when he encountered the empty paper towel dispenser. His gloves were on his lap and water dropped from his finger tips to the grimy floor tiles.
Kurt smiled disarmingly. "I can walk you to class."
"Thanks man, you a'ite." Artie shook the water off his hands comfortably as Kurt piloted the chair.
When Kurt hit his quota of companionable silence, he went for it. "Artie, you're a smartie. How do you pitch your ideas to our peerless leader?"
"Huh, what's your idea?"
"..."
"It might help if you have the idea first."
"I was thinking that..." Kurt tried not to wince at how campy this was going to sound. "...that New Directions could do a time warp. No, not that one again. More along the lines of oldies, but goodies. Real toe tappers. However, l find myself incapable of communicating to Mr. Schue without commenting on his shortcomings. The man uses as much hair product as I do, but he doesn't grasp the value of quality over quantity. See what I did there? Couldn't stop it, can't apologize for it."
"What was your approach the last time you were inspired to impress everyone?" Artie asked, feigning a credible amount of concern while flicking his hands dry faster to get himself to class.
"I wasn't trying to impress anyone," Kurt stated.
"Kurt, are you kidding me?" Artie pulled the brakes, and Kurt could feel a bruise on his shin, and most importantly the irksome scuff on his new shoes, from bumping Artie's chair. "You bribed the orchestra and hijacked the show. I can't ever unsee the sparkling fringe and the eyeshadow, and I dated Tina. Cannot."
The countertenor offered a minor detail. "I may have given myself an ulcer."
"Because..." Artie trailed, gesturing with his hand to summon forth the epiphany.
"Because thou shalt bring the house down with Julie Andrews. I'd be reduced to High School Musical II, III and X... or wizard sing-a-longs, if I violated that commandment on the very altar of worship."
"I thought you were atheist."
"I subscribe to the pantheon of fashion. And Vogue. I'm easing into multicultural styling."
"OK," Artie said, and he had enough. "The point I was getting at was showing you care, Kurt. Let Mr. Schue know that you gots an idea, and you are excited about it because you want him to get excited because you care about what he thinks. Also, the idea is as campy as FM radio gets, so you got a chance this time."
"I do?" Kurt looked like he could have kissed Artie.
To Artie's immense relief, Kurt shoved him into a wall and skipped off to take his craziness elsewhere. At least the wall was the one adjacent to Artie's class and not some stairs (not cool, Finn.)
Will couldn't ignore the prickling in his skin that told him he was being watched. Intently. He couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with Rachel over the uneasiness creeping over him.
"...while the group has maintained decent momentum, I am concerned that we have not had any monumental leaps in our performances. Tomorrow, we should consider going back to basics! Rekindle the flames, the passion, the flare! Especially the flare."
Rachel stared up at him, and her penny loafer twitched as she refrained from tapping her foot.
At his dazed attempts to keep up with her, and recall whatever the hell he had been planning, Rachel softened. Well, her eyebrows weren't half-way up her forehead anymore. "It wouldn't hurt, to have a show-and-tell day."
"Sure thing. Can you send out the e-mails?" Will took a couple steps back, looking around for a quieter student in need of his mentor ship.
His eyes inadvertently locked with Kurt Hummel's.
A Sylvester-esque voice chortled in his head: "You know, Kurt and Rachel have a bad habit of going for the same thing."
Oh no. Nonononono, he wasn't doing this. He was already reliving his past in one significant way- any more and he'd be a history teacher.
"Alright, everyone. Since you've all done swell today, I'm going to let you off early." Will could feel Rachel's glare. "Of course, I'm not encouraging you not to stay productive. Tomorrow's jam session will be different. The theme will be 'Lost and Found.' Bring in the artist that made you fall in love with music."
Will paused, and cleared his throat. "I hope that's- uh, challenges you. I meant that in the appropriate sense. Only encouraging passion for the music." Yeah, okay, he was done here.
He didn't completely wig out when Kurt sent him a meaningful nod of some sort.
The choir room looked like a scene from animal planet, the part where potential mates clustered by the water hole during mating season, when Will strolled in. He whiffed the air, somewhat relieved to note the absence of booze and weed. He stood there for a moment, noting that the Cheerios' spankies were in plain view and Sam and Puck were shirtless.
Will never wanted to see Tina's hip thrust from her first audition with Glee, ever again. Especially on Mike Chang and his wang.
"Who brought Dirty Dancing?" Will inquired.
Artie groped around his girlfriend to pause the TV on the cart; he absolutely failed. Will was going to pretend he couldn't see Brittany's wiggling.
Kurt gently released Mercedes's arm to own up to the deed, and Mercedes danced up to Finn, swept up in the groove that she forgot it was Finn, and then she reeled in Tina as a partner. Mike was really, really okay with being sandwiched between his girlfriend and her girlfriend.
"I can explain," he said quickly. "The Contours are an oldie but a goodie. Most can't help but get caught up. The love is almost visceral. We are New Directions, but that doesn't mean we can't acknowledge the originals."
"Although, I had a better example." Kurt pulled a bulky suitcase on to the chairs very gingerly and popped the lid to reveal a record player. After some fiddling, Kurt had the vinyl going and going, and the sound washed out the tinny audio from Dirty Dancing.
Considering that Kurt was all about show tunes and ballads, Will was floored as Bobby Parker took the room. His chin was already bobbing before he recognized it. Rachel, pouting in her chair over Quinn and Finn, tapped her fingers against her arm.
Everyone paired up, with the least likely couple being Cedes/Puck. Kurt wasn't too surprised though, since he was playing music that Lennon unashamedly copied.
It was going perfectly to plan; Will Schuester found himself joining in (read: dragged in by Rachel Berry). He laughed to hear Puck attempting the soulful wailing and Artie totally nailing it instead and the girls, by force of habit, blending into the background vocals, a la Dreamgirls.
Then Puck took to whaling on his ax alongside Bobby Parker and Mercedes grabbed Rachel and they swung round and round, leaving Will quite bereft but still craving the floating feeling.
Will noticed that Kurt wasn't doing anything despite perpetrating the swing dancing. Without his barriers up, Will had no problem drawing the boy into the action and taking the lead to fun times. Besides, it was easy to pretend that his partner was a girl. For once, Kurt being "light in the loafers" translated positively to Will because the kid could groove.
"This is great, Kurt! I know what our next assignment should be!" Will called over the music.
Kurt's hesitant giggle didn't even trigger the awkward signals that usually went off when Will heard it.
More than a little drunk on soul, he kept shooting off his mouth. "I'll let you join the girls' side next time; I don't know why I make such a big deal about it when you are one. Look how easy you're dancing the girls' part."
There was the thundering silence that followed the shrill scratching of the record. There was the awkward moment that Will realized just how far he'd shot his mouth off and how paralyzed he was in his mortification.
"Boo, you want me to-"
"I got this, Cedes." Kurt smiled, and his eyes, sparkling blue, hardened into jagged glass. "Play the next number."
Instead of putting the record back on, Mercedes and the rest of the glee nodded to each other with variations in hand gestures. They moved as one.
Puck struck up the beginnings of another hit, and he whammied so good it made his mohawk less 90's. He was Puckasaurus Rex, and he was determined to kill it. Artie and Mercedes took up the mics as Quinn and Brittany and-holy crap-Rachel dropped to the back. Finn and Sam sat out for their own safety and Santana already had her phone out to record the look on Schue's face.
Suffice it to say, New Directions did everything in a big way... because any less wouldn't cut through Mr. Schue's blinders.
"You better take it easy, baby, before you go away," Artie moaned smoothly, before Mercedes cut in screaming: "You did me dirty but you'll get yours one day. You better..."
"WATCH YOUR STEP!" The girls called out prettily, wagging their fingers and hips enticingly.
"Talking about you..." Artie trailed off as the girls warned Schue prettily, "WATCH YOUR STEP!"
"You better..." Mercedes leveled her best bitchface at Schue.
"WATCH YOUR STEP!"
It was Kurt's turn to take the lead. With his hands firmly clapped around Mr. Schue, he lunged a couple steps and Mr. Schue danced away.
"You want to know why I always join the girls during the boys vs. girls activities? It's not because I'm confused about my gender. No girl has thrown me away, or shoved me into a locker or locked me up and told me to die in the closet." Kurt kept his tone level as he directed the conversation and their bodies on the floor.
"As for using the ladies' room? When I'm in there, no one accuses me of trying to sneak a peek." Kurt raised his chin defiantly and released one of Mr. Schue's arms and the sudden lack of grip caused Mr. Schue to stumble wildly out of step. "No one's ever sexually harassed me in there."
Kurt caught Mr. Schue effortlessly, pulling him into the dance with a strength that startled the older man. "You seem to marvel at the fact that I always gravitate towards the girls in our group. It's not because I forget that I have a penis."
It was at this point that Mr. Schue realized just how deeply in trouble he was. Kurt was quickening his feet in earnest, and it was clear that he had been taking it easy on Mr. Schue before, and now the kid gloves were coming off. Mr. Schue's heart raced as his body, entirely against his will, whirled faster than his head could keep up. It felt like he was falling from one end of the room to the other in Kurt's arms. "The ladies have never made me afraid for my well being."
"The same," Kurt sniffed disdainfully,"can't be said for boys."
They dropped arms abruptly, and Will shivered when the sweat evaporated off of his body, leaving him clammy.
Kurt didn't spare his teacher another look as he called over his shoulder: "And maybe, Mr. Schuester, if you paid attention in school, to more than your 'leads', you'd maybe stop the next time a boy who once looked up to you is getting kicked around."
The girls all had words with William Schuester.
While most agreed that Mercedes was classy with a velvety "Respect" and snapping fingers...
... frigging Brittany said it best.
"Nobody puts baby gay in a corner."
A/N: I don't own glee. Oh, Brit Brit.
Don't own Bobby Parker's "Watch Your Step" or The Contours' "Do You Love Me." Or John Castle's line.